Beauty's Touch
by Nyfain
Summary: This story centers on a young woman, Lily Ó Duibhir, from the Free Marches who grows up in isolation and must adjust to life in the Circle during the Blight and later the Mage Uprising in Kirkwall. Orsino takes Lily under his wing and learns to trust in the love of those he has sworn to protect.
1. Chapter 1 - The Scent of Rain

Lily could smell rain in the air.

The day was deceptively bright and clear on her family's small orchard estate, but by her estimation, there would be a downpour within a few hours.

She dropped the last few apples in the basket below before swinging down from the tall tree with a practiced grace. Having climbed and leapt down from each tree in the orchard countless times before, Lily felt comfortable with the familiar heights. She often closed her eyes when descending. The wind in her face gave her the sensation of flight and she reveled in the feeling of absolute freedom, however brief.

"Lo there daughter!" her mother called as she emerged from the front door, wiping flour onto her apron. "Put that bushel over yonder for washing later. We will have guests before the storm hits." She said pointing her chin in the direction of the steps below. Lily shifted the basket to her other hip, "More guests mother? I don't think father will be particularly pleased to hear that."

"Aye, well ye best not tell him when he returns from market then." she replied with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Lily's mother was of Chasind origin and since she had come into her magic 7 years ago, mysterious guests would appear as if summoned periodically much to her father's dismay. Her father, Nate, was a great bear of a man with a head full of thick blonde hair and a thick beard to match. He was a Markham man through and though. From the way he told it, you'd think the orchard had been in his family since the Maker was a boy. He seemed utterly mismatched with his wife, Zala, who was darker with a willowy build as Chasind folk often were.

Though their union was rooted in a deep love and mutual respect, Nate never felt completely at ease with his wife's mystical ways. In fact, he made it his business to remain as purposefully ignorant of them as possible. Though he shrugged off his wife teaching their daughter to listen to earth, water and sky and Maker knows what other foolishness, he was distraught when Lily had found her magic and there had been a lingering resentment as a result which had caused a good deal of tension over the last few years. To make matters worse, his wife had opened their home to various "dodgy folk" that Nate only tolerated because he did not want to lose his most beloved and only daughter to the Circle. Demons be damned.

"I'm worried mother, what if he sets off for home and gets caught in the storm?" Lily smoothed out her dress as she set the apples by the door. The rain would give them a nice wash.

"Worry not, daughter mine, I told your father to stay in the market town tonight. It looks to be a beast of a tempest." Zala said as her lips thinned while casting a stern look at the sunny sky.

"I only sensed it just this morning." Lily climbed to the step just below her mother's and could not help keep the disappointment from her voice.

"Aye and so ye did. You're much more attuned to sky than I was at your age. I always preferred listening to the earth's song. Ye need not fret my Lily dear, everyone has different strengths and there is much potential within you." Zala cupped her daughter cheek and cast a warm smile. "Let us make haste now. They draw near."

Lily listened carefully as she prepared tea and cakes for her mother and their guests.

An old woman with skin the color of coffee and a young man close to Lily's age listened to Zala speak but kept their gaze trained on her. She was uneasy, albeit used to the scrutiny she received from the strangers that came calling.

 _"I agree that it was beauty that touched her. Though it rarely lingers. Took every bit of her color too."_ Macha, the elder mumbled quietly, eyes never leaving Lily's face.

Zala spoke up, _"Aye, but linger is does and watches out for her too. I hear her speak to it sometimes, especially when her dreams are strong."_

Lily looked at her mother and then glanced back to Macha and the young man, Euwan, she thought she heard him called before setting the tray on floor by the great fireplace they were sitting near. They must always be so cold in the marshes, the way they practically all sit within the fire. A few inches closer and she was sure the elder's wispy hair would go up in flames.

Euwan, who was also studying her intently smiled and said, _"Grandmother, I believe she has our words. Ah! There! See how prettily she blushes."_ Lily could feel the color rising in her cheeks. As much as she loved being out on the orchard with her family, it was a lonely life and she seldom came into contact with people her own age. Especially men her own age. Especially handsome men with green eyes and tanned skin and exotic features. Was he elf blooded? That would explain why his eyes were unusually pretty and -

 _"Stop teasing her, fool boy, and be quiet. Perhaps you would like to get better acquainted with the storm roaring overhead? Mother knows your water tongue could use improvement."_ Macha gently cuffed him on the back of the head. _"Don't worry child, he always teases pretty young women. Come and sit with us."_ Macha gestured to the empty space to her left. _"Can you speak at all, or only listen?"_

The Chasind language was split into multiple dialects and although she could understand what they were saying, she did not feel comfortable enough to attempt to speak it. Rather she relied on the old tongue which her mother had been diligent in teaching her since she was an infant and practiced when her father wasn't around. This tongue was often spoken by elders during hold meets in the Wilds. Still, Lily felt self-conscious as she spoke the guttural language that felt clumsy on her lips, _"I have the words of our ancestors, Great Mother, I would be honored to hear your counsel."_

Zala looked at her daughter reassuringly as a small smile quirked at the corner of her lips.

 _"Ah, see that boy? See how well she speaks the old tongue?"_ The elder pointed a finger in her direction, "Mayhap if you spent more time listening to your grandmother instead of kissing girls by the barrows.." Macha had switched over to the common tongue. Euwan's eyes danced with merriment, _"Aye mother, but it would be unkind to deprive the women of the kisses they surely deserve."_

Macha rolled her eyes before turning back to Lily and speaking once more in her native dialect, _"I've heard your story from others, but I would like to hear it from your own lips."_

Lily sighed before reciting the story that she had told countless times over to each new visitor that came calling.

Zala drew in her breath slowly to hide a smile as she recognized her daughter's barely suppressed annoyance. She had explained to her daughter that the Chasind were nothing if not thorough in their assessments and if there was an issue or question, they would review it again and again asking the same questions, sometimes worded ever so slightly differently to see if there was any information which might be teased out by looking at it from all possible angles.

 _"I was 15 when I went out to talk to the river one night."_

All eyes were on Lily.

 _"The moon was full and the air held the scent of lavender and hay. I always talk to her when the moon is out, as she hears me best when it is full or close to full."_ Macha nodded as if this was the most reasonable statement she had ever heard and asked what Lily usually spoke to the river about.

 _"We talk about the things she hears to the south from her brothers and sisters. What the animals tell her. She asks me about my dreams and sometimes. Sometimes she asks me to gather flowers and feed them to her."_

Euwan smiled, _"Ha! Flowers! Your river is vain one! Did I not tell you she was vain, Grandmother? The brook near our holding only asks us to remove the excess scat from his banks on occasion."_ Lily laughed as Macha scolded him to not interrupt. _"Go on child,"_ she motioned for Lily to continue.

 _"That night, she told me she had a friend that had wanted to meet me for a long time. She told me to lay down by her bank and listen to her pulse."_

She went on to tell them how the river had lulled her into a dream state where she met a being of white light. The being was nebulous at first but then became more humanlike and masculine. Lily was unable to tell if she was dreaming or awake, but she had spoken to the spirit for what seemed like an eternity. He told her he watched dance under the stars as a child, and watched her as she gently tended to the plants and animals she had befriended over the years. He said that she had a great power inside and that he would guide her.

Macha nodded and even Euwan became more pensive as she continued, _"I felt like I had known him before somehow. I don't know how. I trusted him implicitly. He kissed me on the forehead and I felt a deep love well up inside me."_ Lily paused as she felt the strong emotion stir inside of her at the thought of the memory. She lowered her voice and thought about her words carefully, _"I'm not sure if it was a love I have for him or a love he feels for me, we felt connected somehow. I could not tell where he ended and I began. It's the way you love a creature just for act of existing in the first place….it's hard to explain."_ Lily stared thoughtfully at the contents of her teacup.

Zala smiled warmly as she tucked a pale lock of hair behind her daughter's ear. _"It's not so hard to understand that love, my daughter."_

Lily smiled at her mother, _"Yes, it does feel like that I think, something like that, at any rate."_

Macha spoke, _"Did he ask you for anything?"_

The elders always asked this one question without fail.

Lily shook her head no. _"He never asked me for anything at all. When he kissed my forehead I felt it begin to tingle though."_ She lifted her thick white bangs and touched her forehead where a small silver mark was. Macha looked at the mark closely and traced a thumb along the small crescent. _"What happened next?"_

Lily thought about it, _"I wanted to give him something that would make him happy…he told me how beautiful my red hair was, so I told him to take it. I told him to take my eyes too. I know I didn't have to, but I wanted him to have it."_

Zala tilted her head to the side and sighed, _"Aye, and take it he did, as ye can see. She had hair the color of fire and eyes like molasses candy, but now she is colorless, except for a bit of blue in the eyes."_

Macha nodded. _"I have heard that beauty is drawn to those with gentle hearts, but never takes. It was a kindness you did for him."_

Lily nodded as she remembered her friend's profound gratitude. _"He called it an anchor and said he would always watch over me no matter what, and that I would have to trust him when the time came."_

 _"And do you see him often?"_ Euwald piped up.

Lily nodded. _"Yes, although he has been sleeping more often lately. He tells me we will have to leave soon. He's teaching me to heal too."_

The elder nodded thoughtfully, _"Aye. I have heard as much from marshland and bog down south. The earth is in pain….it's not as sharp here as back home, but I feel it still and I think we may all be on the move before too long."_

Zala looked into the firelight thoughtfully and sighed. The room grew quiet for a moment before Euwan spoke up once more _"Shall I take Lily and teach her some of my tricks while you speak with Ki'Zala?"_ referring to her mother with the honorific given to witches who choose to live away from their holding.

 _"Aye, but mind which tricks you teach her. You've not see a woman who has been marked by beauty before, and I see the heat in your eyes."_ This time it was Euwan's turn to blush.

"Aye then, let us be off?" He spoke in heavily accented common tongue as he took Lily's hand in his own.

"Mind me and learn my spell; it will serve you well."

As they reached the door to her room, he looked at her again before giving her an impish grin and reverting back to his native tongue, _"Heed me not, and you will owe me a kiss each error you make."_

For the first time in her life, Lily was looking forward to making lots of mistakes.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Voice of the River

The morning sunshine cast a soft light upon Lily's eyes waking her from a peaceful , dreamless sleep.

Euwan and Lily had stayed up well into the small hours of the night and much to her disappointment and consternation, Euwan had been quite serious about teaching Lily a shape shifting spell that was his specialty. He had brought with him a small wren.

"Perfect for slipping out of a fight" he had said with a grin. "More important than learning any combat spell, is learning to survive."

If she needed a fast out, this would be it. Though she had not managed a successful transformation last night, Euwan had seemed pleased by her progress. She was able to speak to the animal, as one can speak to such a creature. Speaking to the wren was similar to speaking to the sparrows in spring, and much more familiar than a bird of prey.

Chirp! (Outside!) the wren hopped impatiently by the window sill. An image of the barn's rafters and grains from the horse feed flashed across her mind briefly. Lily smiled and let the bird out. She knew that the animal would be back, but she did not know how she knew it. Her mother and the elders who had visited had called her gifted, but to Lily it was the most natural thing in the world.

Every creature, every river, rock, and tree had its own language and it's own unique brand of sentience. She had much more in depth conversations with her river than with a pebble, for example. Not that she didn't try. She found that little rocks had little to tell; she felt vague impressions of the endless change of seasons over unimaginable spans of time. Once her mother had taken her for a visit in the Wilds and had stopped by the slopes of a ruined mountain and had camped there for the night. Lily was about 10 at the time and opened her mind to the mountain under her mother's guidance. She felt the deep, ageless consciousness of the mountain touch her mind. It was old and sleepy and had not spoken to anyone in a very long time. She felt the mountain's impression of her own fleeting existence before it faded away again.

Once, against the explicit instructions of her mother, Lily had tried to touch the mind of Thedas itself. Her mind was quickly overwhelmed with an intelligence so vast that she had been stricken unconscious for over a week and was not herself for several weeks afterwards. That was the first time she remembered her mother and father fighting and the first time she had seen real fear in her mother's eyes. She would not try that again any time soon, but hoped that maybe one day she would be disciplined enough to make the attempt again without danger to herself. She had asked her mother to tell her of the dwarves in Orzammar as Chasind lore spoke of their deep connection to the planet.

Lily turned her mind to the rolling river by their orchard. She had been the first natural friend that Lily had made as a child and spoke to her with images, scents, and with the motion of her waves. Lily was so used to her mode of communication, that she could almost imagine her as a person. When her river wanted lavender or apple blossoms to perfume her waters, she would send lazy ripples towards Lily's feet and an image of flowers on the banks would enter her mind. Frequently she saw the river arguing with passing storms (Lily had found that water elementals tended to be annoyed by strong winds, but enjoyed the gentle ones) and the normally gentle waters would roll and surge in anger. She wanted to visit her now if only to make sure that yesterday's storm had not overly upset her. She would gather up extra wild flowers to place on her banks today. Other than a sense of friendship, Lily felt a deep affection from her watery companion and eagerness to enjoy each other's thoughts.

Lily completely lost her train of thought when she heard the heavy footfall of her father downstairs.

"Father!" she laughed as she bounded down the stairs and launched into his arms much the same way she did as a small child. Though she was in her 22nd summer, she retained some of her more childlike traits around him.

"How was the market town father? Did you manage to unload all the produce and baked goods?" she smiled up at his handsome bearded face and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

"Aye love, I was able to unload it all thanks to my little layover." He sent a pointed look to Zala who smiled as she kneaded the dough on the table.

"Peace my love, I merely told you of the storm, I didn't conjure it."

"Hmph." Her father grunted as he sat down and begin to attack the meat pie on the table with fervor. "I've no doubt you could conjure something that beastly if you set your mind to it."

Zala didn't reply, but her smile widened a hair as she continued work the dough with her hands.

"And as usual, I can see we've had more guests. How many this time? When did they leave?"

Zala folded the crust on top of itself and began to roll it out.

"Elder Macha was here with her grandson. From Zephyr holding." She paused and looked at her husband with a smile, "Which is the holding my father was from before he joined my mother in..."

"In Egret holding." Nate finished and shoved another hearty bite into his mouth.

Zala was grinning from ear to ear, "See my daughter, even your city bred father can be taught of the old ways."

Lily could hear her father utter "Maker's breath…" as she made a face and said "Mother, I've lived in this backwater area (Hey!) my whole life and I wouldn't call even Markham proper a "city". Not in the loosest sense."

"I'll have you know, little miss," Nate punctuated with a fork pointed in her direction, "that you have the privilege of living close to one of the finest universities in all of Thedas."

Lily grinned and leaned over the counter far enough that her feet lifted off the floor. "Oh father, please do go on about the university again! I long to hear about the renowned agricultural sciences program for the hundredth time." She laughed as her mother swatted her behind, "Off the counter girl."

Nate quickly swallowed the last of his pie with a gulp of milk and got up from the table.

"I'm gone for one day and suddenly my daughter is putting on airs. This is your doing, wife." Nate enveloped Zala in a huge hug from behind and she began to giggle as he obstructed her progress with kisses.

Lily was all too used to her parents affectionate ways and took this as her cue to exit. Before she left , her father called out to her "Daughter, how would you like a brief moment of respite from this backwoods country next week?"

She stopped in her tracks. "You mean it father?!"

Zala turned around with a look of concern, "Husband, that might not be wise…"

"You heard her, love" he kissed his wife, "Lily needs a little more culture in her life, and there's no harm in going into the city as long as we're careful."

Zala was still worried but her resolve was melting under the barrage of kisses her husband was gently planting on her lips. "I suppose…"

"Good!" Nate boomed. "It's settled. Lily comes with me next week. She needs to be among people." He squeezed his wife tighter and looked lovingly into her eyes, "Not here talking to tree branches" (kiss) "and eating live chickens" (kiss) "or whatever in Andraste's name you two do when I'm not at home."

Lily chuckled and shook her head as she left the room. Only one night away and her father behaved like a man dying of thirst who chanced upon a cool mountain spring. She grinned as she realized that her mother might have had more than one motive in sending him away. They had never quite moved past the love struck, newlywed phase of their marriage.

"My orchard isn't really a backwater piece of land, is it my love?" she heard her father quietly ask her mother in a voice touched with the tiniest bit of hurt.

"No my love, it's the loveliest piece of land in all of the Free Marches."

She heard them kissing as she closed the door behind her as she slipped outside.

The next week passed by in a blur.

Lily had spoken to her river and received a first hand account of the obscene treatment she received at the hands of the raging storm. She had become calm once more after Lily spent the better part the day gathering two baskets full of lavender and tossing them one handful at a time in the rolling currents. _She loves these blossoms as a lady loves her perfume._ She smiled at the thought.

Idly, she wondered what she must look like to a Free Marcher who saw a young woman tossing wildflowers into the river for no apparent reason.

She had always felt self-conscious around "normal" Marchers like her father. Love her as he did, he always shook his head and muttered about her queer ways. She could be herself among the Wilder folk, who accepted the natural world in the way that she had.

As for Free Marchers, she had learned to speak only of the most mundane topics with the people she had come into contact with. She went to the city much less often now, but used to travel with her father to sell the apples, pies and pastries every week. Nate felt it was important that his daughter socialize with others her age. One of her earliest memories was being laughed at and mocked by a group of her peers after she had told them about a funny conversation she had had with a sparrow just that morning. She was only 6 at the time, but had quickly developed a reputation for being a little _off_ among the children. Eventually it got so bad that they had started taunting her whenever she would approach them to play.

When she was 8, her father had found her crying in an alleyway with blood running down her chin. An older boy had thrown a rock at her and hit her in the mouth. Nate was furious and had pressed Lily to tell him who had thrown the rock but she wouldn't. Telling him would have only made it worse, and besides the damage had already been done. The rock had hurt but the pain she felt was from the complete and utter rejection by the other children. From that day forward, she stayed with her father and helped him run the stall.

If things had been bad before, they became exponentially worse after finding her magic and giving her gift to her spirit friend. It had left her hair the color of moonlight and her skin barely a shade darker. Her beautiful dark eyes were now pale blue. She thought the blue was pretty in a way but hated the rest.

She felt her face heat up at the memory of embarrassment as every passing person, be they human or elf, rich or poor, young or old had openly stared at her. The worst part was not knowing what awful thoughts lay behind those gawking faces. No doubt they had thought her even more of a freak. She learned to keep her eyes trained to the ground and often flinched when she made eye contact with a stranger. Nate had explained away the drastic color change as result of a mysterious illness. He had told them that it wasn't catching, but that didn't stop people from avoiding her touch when paying for items.

Though the Chasind witches had all agreed that she had been touched by a spirit of beauty, she did not feel that made her exactly beautiful. She had always thought herself rather plain with eyes that were a touch too wide apart and a mouth that seemed too full for her face. She had often wished that she looked like her mother. Zala was a true beauty in her eyes. She was more curvy than Lily, yet still graceful and light. She had smooth light brown skin with eyes that were the color of obsidian. Her mother's hair was a mass of dark tightly coiled curls that felt like softest cashmere. It was no wonder that her father had fallen for the alluring Chasind woman whom he caught dancing under the moonlight in his fields one night. Lily had once asked her parents about the details of their swift courtship, but they had only looked at each other and smiled. She had pressed, but Zala simply laughed while working on her embroidery and her father, red cheeked, had tersely replied that it was not a story for children. It was not hard to figure out what had happened, so she dropped it.

Lily had been lost in thought when she felt the small wren land on her shoulder.

Chirp! (Practice!) The image of haystacks and her horses flashed inside of her mind briefly.

She smiled at her little friend and bid her river farewell as she made her way towards the barn.

The day before her trip to the city, Lily had her first breakthrough with the shape shifting spell. After spending hour after hour observing and speaking with the wren, following him and watching him in the barn, watching him eat, drink, poop and sleep, she had finally been able to shift briefly before turning back into a human. It only lasted a few seconds but she was elated by her progress. She was eager to try again and longed feel the sensation of soaring through the air. She had felt a profound feeling of freedom from her wren as he flew through the sky and wanted that for herself.

She felt unusually confident from the success of her progress as she studied herself in the mirror. She was trying on a new dress her father had bought for her while in town a few weeks prior. Lily smiled as she recalled the fondness in his expression when he said he bought it on account of it being the same color as her eyes. Looking at herself now, she thought she looked almost pretty. She wondered if any of the young men her age might look at her the way Euwan did and blushed at the thought. It had been almost 4 years since she had last been in the city with her father, and she was feeling restless and eager to break free of the confines of the orchard.

Lily put on the matching slippers and softly made her way to her parent's room to show them the dress. She was about to knock when she heard her mother's voice, slightly muffled from the thick oak door.

"Husband, I do not feel good about this trip."

"Zala love, why are you so anxious lately? Did the pie you made this morning tell you it was a bad idea? I think it just doesn't want to be eaten!" Her father often made light of his wife's peculiarities.

She hissed, "Do not make sport of me husband, this is serious! No, don't try to kiss me!" She heard the sharp sound of flesh smacking flesh. "Ow!"

"I know you think us odd, but both Lily and I have been hearing many strange things. Elder Macha also told me of a sickness and pain that she feels keenly upon the land near the Wilds. We need to prepare to leave this place and soon!"

Her father protested, "That is out of the question!"

It made Lily feel quite nervous to hear her mother speak like this; she always seemed so controlled in front of her. She had seen the signs that things were off as well in the wind and rain, but had consciously avoided seeking out information. Her spirit friend had come to her in a dream one night a few months ago and had told her that she would have to prepare to leave soon. Though she was anxious to explore and see new places, it frightened her to think she would have to leave the one place she had ever known safety and comfort. She reached up under her thick bangs to touch the mark on her forehead absent mindedly and felt the familiar hum against her skin. The spirit was always with her but laid dormant more often than not. He appeared without rhyme or reason in her dreams and had taught her much of the magic she was able to use.

"I beg of you not to do this thing, my love. The Chantry will catch her eventually if you bring her into the city."

"And what would you have us do, Zala? Are we going to keep her locked up tight and away from normal people the rest of her life?" Lily could practically feel her mother bristle at that statement. "Is she to live in the Wilds with your people in a mud hut? No don't look at me like that, you KNOW that is not a life for her."

Lily turned away and headed back to her room. She did not like where the conversation was going and she was beginning to feel anxious. She removed her dress while staring at nothing in particular; all the confidence that she had felt earlier in the day leeched out and replaced by a pervasive feeling of dread in her gut. Part of her wondered if it would be better to be caught by Templars once and for all and sent to a Circle. Was the thing itself actually as bad as fearing the thing? She was afraid to find out. A familiar sense of sadness and isolation settled over her as she blew out the candle laid down in bed. The moon was bright overhead and Lily whispered a prayer of thanks for her life, such as it was. She closed her eyes and as she listened to the wind blowing playfully through the grass, sleep finally took her.


	3. Chapter 3 - Little Pretender

The rain pelted gently against the large, ornate window in the First Enchanter's office.

It was a particularly cold, grey day and whispered a promise of the dreariness to come as the last days of summer waned.

Orsino enjoyed the peaceful stillness as he inhaled the aroma of the steaming cup of floral tea that one of the apprentices had brought to him. It was one of the few luxuries afforded to him by the Chantry.

 _This is nice. Some type of Jasmine, I believe,_ he thought absentmindedly as he settled into the heavy oak chair.

A thick stack of paperwork greeted him today, as it did every morning. It was one of the few constants he could rely upon since assuming the role of First Enchanter a little less than a year ago.

His predecessor, Maceron, has passed away suddenly a year ago leaving the Circle mages reeling. Knight Commander Meredith had actually gone so far as to argue that there was no need for a new First Enchanter as she was responsible for the direct oversight of the mages. He distinctly remembered the overwhelming feelings of fear and dread experienced by his sisters and brothers in the days immediately afterwards. "What is to become of us now?" and "Who will protect us?" were the most common sentiments uttered among the mages. The collective anxiety of the Circle had reached an all-time high. Unable to stand idly by and watch his people cower in fear, he had reluctantly volunteered to accept the role. He did not want it because he coveted the promotion by any means, quite the contrary, he preferred to stay under the radar. Rather it was his desire to protect his family that overrode any reservations he would have normally had. There was simply no other choice. The enchanters and senior enchanters had unanimously and enthusiastically pooled their support behind him.

The transition had been difficult, however, as he had not had to deal with the steely Knight Commander in person prior to accepting the new position. In fact, he took pains to avoid the unpleasant and taciturn woman at all costs while Maceron was alive. In the first few days he had already butted heads with Meredith who had not been accustomed to being challenged by a mage under her supervision, not even the First Enchanter. Maceron had largely been a figurehead of the Kirkwall Circle, but Orsino had absolutely no intention of letting Meredith steamroll his people and had vowed to fight her heavy handed tactics every step of the way. It had taken less than a week before they both realized that their relationship would be adversarial at best.

In addition to the rocky Mage-Templar relationship, he did not have a mentor to directly oversee him as he assumed the duties of his predecessor. He had spent many late nights writing to the other circles for advice and guidance in his new role. They had been eager to help and for that he was eternally grateful. First Enchanters from the Circles in Ostwick, Kinloch Hold, Ansberg, Markham and Starkhaven had taken turns visiting Kirkwall to guide Orsino as he created curricula for new apprentices, oversaw their harrowings, settled disputes among his mages, and advocated for his people without actively provoking the Templars.

There were far less pleasant duties that could only be learned from experience, however. In the past year, there had been 2 successful suicides, one mage who had disappeared mysteriously only to be returned in pieces by a group of Templars who had claimed blood magic, and a rape of a mage by a Templar. He recalled in white hot fury how the matter had been hushed up by the Chantry and how the Templar in question had been quietly reassigned to another Circle without any known punishment. The mage in question had not only not received justice but had been re-victimized by the heavy handed questioning by Templar Authorities. Orsino had written to Firsts in other circles about the matter appealing to them for advice and was rewarded by the arrival of a Seeker at his Circle one morning. He had never seen the Templars so agitated before and even Meredith looked sufficiently chastised by the week's end. He felt gratified for the small amount of oversight he was able to provide for his people. There had been no more sexual assaults, reported to him at least, since that time and although neither of them had spoken of the Seeker's visit, there was a new and palpable tension between himself and the Knight Commander as a result. He knew she greatly resented having someone of authority question her and knew that she would find a way to take it out of him, or worse, his mages.

Still, he would endure. If he had only himself to worry about, he would have succumbed to despair many, many years ago. He had purpose however, and they could not take that from him. So long as he was First Enchanter, he was dedicated to improving the lives of the mages in his Circle. He didn't want his people to just survive; Orsino wanted his circle to flourish.

There had been small victories which made his heart soar. He was particularly proud of the fact that of the 3 apprentices who had undergone their harrowing, all had passed flawlessly and were performing more than adequately as enchanters despite having questionable success as apprentices during Maceron's time. He had expanded the areas of magic study in his circle which had primarily been heavily rooted in Force and Elemental magic. Now they were making headway in the schools of Entropy and Spirit thanks to the mage transfer initiative he had created. A select few enchanters who showed promise were chosen to study in other circles for a time and eventually returned to teach what they had learned to the Kirkwall mages. Next year, Orsino planned on accepting mages from other Circles to train apprentices and enchanters who were interested in the more obscure schools of magic. He was especially eager to bring a mage in from Kinloch Hold who had a reputation as a fine spirit healer.

Finally, he had bolstered the Circle's coffers by devising clever, albeit mundane uses of Elemental magic which ran strongly in his mages. Heating houses of the rich in winter and keeping them cool in the summer among other things. It was a laughable use of magic, but it brought better meals, clothing, and equipment for his family and he was not so proud as to turn down a chance to better the lives of his people. He had been rewarded by a steady increase in morale.

Still, the year had been a difficult one and lips that had been so quick to smile were now down turned more often than not. He had noticed that his once jet black hair was quickly being replaced with silver which starkly contrasted with his still smooth elven features. The fact that magic use tended to delay the aging process in both humans and elves ever so slightly, coupled with his race's propensity to age gracefully left him looking far younger than his 42 years of age. He wondered if the stress of his position would render that small advantage null and void as well. Vanity; however, had never been of great concern to him.

He set down his still steaming cup of tea and began processing the stack of paper work at his desk.

There were the usual bills of lading for imported herbs and magical artifacts. There were requisitions for magical enchantments and invoices for magical services rendered to be settled. Orsino smiled at the next item in the pile. It was a note from one of his Senior enchanters, a man by the name of Enrick who oversaw a portion of the children's activities.

"First, I thought you would enjoy this. Cheers. -E"

Enclosed was a child's crude drawing. Written at the top of the page were the instructions to "Draw your wish come true".

This particular drawing, expertly executed by a 7 year old apprentice by the name of Lita, depicted a monstrous Knight Commander Meredith complete with a forked tongue and snakes for hair being engulfed in flames by the apprentice children with the remaining stick figure mages cheering them on from the sidelines.

"Our Lita clearly has a gift for art." Orsino mused, lips quirking into an easy smile.

 _I think I'll see about getting this framed._

Orsino's smile vanished when his eyes landed on the next missive.

A thick sheet of vellum bearing the Chantry seal along with the Markham coat of arms only had one meaning: An apostate had been found and would be sent to him.

New additions to the Circle were always stressful, but apostates decidedly so. Unlike children who newly came into their magic, apostates ran a much higher risk of being possessed or were too wild to subdue. Most of the circle mages were brought in by the Templars at a young age as their magic manifested. Apostates generally tended to be older children and almost always had difficulty assimilating into the Circle's way of life.

Orsino did not like the unknown.

He broke the seal and set about reading the missive with a furrowed brow.

He recognized the Templar's name from the capital city of Markham, a Ser Mahon, who had always dealt fairly with his people in the past. He quickly scanned the contents of the letter:

 _To the honorable First Enchanter Orsino,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well and in good health._

 _We have apprehended a female apostate in Markham city proper yesterday by the name of 'Lily Ó Duibhir'. Our Templars witnessed her using magic at approximately 9:30 in the morning while attempting to heal a young man that had been injured. Sers Delahan and Trimbley immediately blocked her and placed her in detention. The woman appears to be human and claims to be 22 years of age. She has most likely been kept concealed by her father, a well-known and respected local farmer by the name of Nate Ó Duibhir. Her mother is reported to be Chasind. The woman maintained that she kept her magic hidden from her family; however, an investigation of the situation is pending. Inspection by both those in our order and our local Circle was not able to produce any evidence of possession. She did not attempt to harm our Templars upon capture. She has been compliant with our requests and has agreed to submit to the protection of a Circle. Knight Commander Walsh has formally put in a request for transfer to your Circle and we expect to receive a response from Grand Cleric Elthina shortly. We have collected her phylacteries and will keep one in our possession whilst sending the other to Knight Commander Meredith for safe keeping._

 _Please expect delivery of our charge within the week. Recommendations are for a swift Harrowing._

 _May the light of the Maker Guide and Protect You,_

 _Ser Dais Mahon_

 _Knight Lieutenant of Markham City Chantry_  
 _Servant and Protector of the Most Holy Divine Beatrix III_

Orsino was troubled by the letter. He did not miss the subtle implication that the woman "appeared" to be human and wondered what the Templar had meant by it. He knew Meredith would also be receiving a copy of this letter and imagined she would be apoplectic at the situation.

And Maker's mercy, she was 22 years old. She would go on record as one of the oldest, if not the oldest apprentice that the Kirkwall Circle had ever accepted. Most apprentices underwent their harrowing in their late teens , and early twenties at the very latest, after many years of rigorous study. If her mother was indeed a Chasind Wilder, that might explain how she had survived and avoided possession; however, he would need to put her to the harrowing very swiftly indeed. Generally apostates did not last long on their own; either by seeking out demonic influence or unknowingly submitting to it. They usually ended up dead soon enough, but in some cases, they had wound up taking innocents with them. If a family was indeed knowingly concealing an apostate, the penalty was severe. It was an unpleasant situation all around. He would do his best to ensure the woman's safety but quietly worried about the effect bringing in such a risky outsider would have on his Circle by and large. He wouldn't put it past the Knight Commander to insist upon on a harrowing as soon as the apostate step foot inside the Gallows.

Another thing that bothered him was this newly adopted practice of obtaining 2 phylacteries instead of the one, not to mention that it was obtained prior to admittance into the Circle. Traditionally, the phylactery was obtained when one was admitted into the Circle and the blood was drawn by the First Enchanter instead of a Templar. The implication was one of trust and protection, but now it reeked of coercion. He could see the practicality of the measure, given recent attempts at escape by circle mages in Kinloch Hold and Jainen. In both instance, mages had sought out and destroyed their phylacteries that had been kept under lock and key by both the first enchanters and knight commanders. Practicality aside however, it was yet another instance in which Templars had overtaken responsibilities that were previously delegated to his people. He could feel the ever present noose tightening around his neck.

He sighed and leaned into his hands and rubbed his eyes before leaning back again and looking out the window. The rain was coming down harder now and the day was darkening.

A loud shout and the sounds of scuffling outside startled him from his thoughts. He sighed, stood up and smoothed his robes before collecting his staff to investigate. If there was trouble, it usually came to him eventually. As was his way, he elected to meet it head on.

Heavy steps and the sound of clanking metal preceded a group of 4 Templars who surrounded a filthy, rain soaked elven boy that looked to be about 11 or 12. The boy was offering up every bit of resistance his tiny frame would allow. "Let me go, shemlen scum! Or I will call on Mythal to strike you down where you stand!" he cried out in protest as he was forcefully led down the hall.

This prompted muffled laughter from the Templars who seemed more amused by the boy's vain attempts to fight than anything else. There was a Templar holding him by each arm with one flanking the group and another at the head.

The boy's eyes widened as he spotted Orsino walking towards them. He stopped struggling for a full five seconds before extending his left leg and tripping one Templar. There was a sound of cursing as the Templar hit the ground. The little boy took advantage of the chaos to hurl his entire weight at the Templar on his right. Rather than knocking the man down, the elf rebounded off his solid frame and crashed to the floor. Laughter erupted from the group as one of the men said "ha! This little knife ear has some fire in him yet." The epithet sent the boy raging once more which led to even more laughter.

Orsino stood with his hands clasped behind his back, jaw clenching in anger, "That is quite enough gentlemen." He called out in a clear voice. "Young man, would you be kind enough to come forward so that I can have a look at you?"

The boy's green eyes shot daggers as he spat, "Who are you supposed to be? A pet flat ear doing the bidding of these shemlen scum?"

Orsino exhaled slowly.

 _Maker preserve me._

Having been a child of an alienage himself, he remembered encountering this type of defiance in elves periodically. Be they young or old they usually ended up dead very quickly when displaying this type of aggression. Even so much as cutting your eyes the wrong way to a human could result in an elf being run through with a sword without a second thought. The fact that he had made it to twelve years of age without being killed was a testament to either a level of sheer dumb luck directly bestowed by the Maker himself; or perhaps he had recently come into his idiocy. To make matters worse, he was incorporating what bits of knowledge he had picked up about the Dalish, as alienage elves often did, making this display all the more cringe worthy.

For all their pretending otherwise, elves often seemed eager enough to surpass humans in stupidity given the opportunity.

Orsino waved over to a passing mage by the name of Allen and whispered something to him. The man nodded quickly before trotting off. He turned his gaze back to the elven boy in front of him.

"Report?" he flicked his eyes to the leading Templar.

"Aye sir, we found this one in Lowtown trying to sneak food off a produce stand. A shop boy took off after him and the little one here sent a fireball in his general direction." The young boy had locked eyes with Orsino what seemed to be a challenge. "The shop boy was unharmed, but there were damages to the stand, thank the Maker it was raining. Oh and he said to expect an invoice for repairs."

Orsino rolled his eyes and dryly replied, "Fantastic."

He looked at the boy again and addressed him.

"What is your name , young man?"

The boy threw his head back and puffed his little chest out.

"I am called Talassan. Tell these shems to let me go before I get _really_ angry."

 _Talassan_ , he groaned inwardly, _And I am surely the Empress of Orlais._

"What is your _real_ name?" Orsino could feel his patience waning.

Something about watching an elf make an utter fool of himself before the human Templars made him eager to wrap this up very quickly.

Hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Orsino turned to the quickly approaching elven woman who looked at the boy and then to him in askance. "Thank you for coming so quickly Hallasa. It appears the Templars have apprehended one of your long lost 'kinsman'." Her dark green eyes fell on the elven boy who stood gawping at the tattooed woman. Her expression hardened before she addressed the boy sharply in Elvhen.

Orsino could only catch bits and pieces of what she was saying. She had asked him his name which only caused him to stare even harder. She asked his name again and then spat out a reprimand of some sort before turning to the First Enchanter. Hallasa replied in her distinctly accented common, "It seems my kinsman has lost all ability to comprehend the language of his people." She addressed the boy again who had now lowered his head and was staring at the ground. "What is your name, little pretender?" He winced at the rebuke.

"Soran." he said in little more than a whisper.

"Welcome to your new home, Soran." Orsino said gently, "Please follow Hallasa for the time being and we shall speak later."

All the fight had seemed to evaporate from the little boy and the Templar in front cut his wrist bindings.

Soran rubbed his tiny wrists and kept his eyes trained to the ground as he walked obediently towards the two mages.

The Templars gave a slight bow to Orsino who nodded politely in acknowledgement. They had not yet turned and walked 10 paces before Soran pivoted deftly on his heel and darted with a shockingly fast speed towards the Gallows entrance.

Orsino gracefully readied his staff and sent a small paralysis spell hurtling towards the elf. It landed expertly between his shoulder blades and Soran toppled to the ground. The Templars had burst out into laughter once more as they stepped over and around the frozen boy. One of them reached down to tousle the boy's hair, and chuckled, "Plucky little knife ear."

Orsino glanced at the time piece in the hall as he went to collect Soran. Maker's breath…it was only 10:15 in the morning. The boy was light as a feather in his arms. "Hallasa, would you please see to him and get him cleaned up?" The red headed woman nodded tersely as she reached for Soran, "Aye, sir."

"Please, see that he eats and have him brought to my office later today for an interview." Hallasa shifted the boy's weight so that he fit in her arms more comfortably. "As you wish, sir." As she walked away, Orsino met the boy's eyes one last time and saw that his little face was streaked with tears.

 _I believe a visit to the Hahren will be in order this week,_ he thought sadly, before returning to his office to resume the day's remaining work.


End file.
